A sound is in my ear to-day,
And playful fancies with it throng;
It follows me and all the way
It haunts me like a snatch of song.
I know not what it all may mean,
I dimly ask myself, and say,
'Something that thou hast heard or seen,
In some forgotten summer day.
'A summer day when paradise
Lay near to earth as near could be,
When all the hills were red with fire,
And heather humming with the bee.'
And it is this; an upland gleam
Of sunshine such as warms and thrills;
The tinkle of a quiet stream,
That broke the stillness of the hills.